Lines in the Sand
by maitredelaville
Summary: You're so stuck on doin' what's good, you've forgotten about what's right. BatmanxIron Man. Mid TDK. Post IM1.


Title: Lines in the Sand  
Author: maîtredelaville  
Feedback: lemaitredelaville[at]yahoo[dot]com; lemaitredelaville[at]gmail[dot]com  
Disclaimer: I own neither the Iron Man Movieverse nor the Nolanverse.  
Rating: PG13 - R  
Summary: "You're so stuck on doin' what's good, you've forgotten about what's _right_." BatmanxIron Man. Mid TDK. Post IM1.  
Spoilers: Batman Begins & The Dark Knight. Iron Man, The Movie. Marvel Universe. DC Universe.  
Warnings: Slash, Violence, Adult Language

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

Doing business in Gotham was a lot like sky-diving. You either did it for the thrill, or because you didn't have a choice.

Sometimes it was a mixture of the two.

"Tony Stark!"

Tony returned the blinding smile watt for watt, and when offered, he returned the hug, complete with manly back-patting. God, he hated Bruce Wayne. He'd rhapsodize on exactly _how_ much, but Pepper had lectured him on the flight over, and really, Stark Industries _did _need new non-military business contacts. So. Yeah. Hugging it out with Bruce Wayne. The things he did for the greater good.

"Bruce, hey!" he said, smile turning lazy; easier to fake. "Long time. Heard you were dead." He quirked an eyebrow, going for sly but probably coming off as a dick. Eh, Rhodey was always telling him to play toward his strengths. "Gotta do somethin' about that, man, false advertising an' all. You should sue."

Wayne's laser-whitened teeth flashed that much brighter; yeah, Brucie didn't like him much either. "Disappointed?"

"Nah. Well, okay, a little. But, seriously, life is full of disappointments, so what's one more?" Tony gave Wayne's arm a jovial clap and moved on into the man's office, quickly cataloging its pristine and utterly unused contents. Definitely a guy who worked from home, if he worked at all. From the glassy, painted-on bonhomie that comprised most of Bruce Wayne's expressions, Tony wasn't expecting much.

"So what brings you to Gotham, Tony?" Wayne asked, waving for him to take the chair in front of his desk. "If I had known you were coming, I'd have sent a car to meet you at the airport."

Tony's rolled his eyes. Dear God, who did Wayne think he was fooling? He didn't want him here anymore than Tony wanted to _be_ here. "If you'd known I was comin' in, you'd have suddenly remembered you left the oven on in Madripoor."

"That only happened once," Wayne defended. "And it was Metropolis, not Madripoor." He paused, thoughtful. "I don't think I own a house in Madripoor."

Bypassing the chair, Tony headed toward the windows. Tall panels of flawless, unadorned glass stretched from the carpet to the ceiling, giving the impression that there wasn't anything to keep you from taking that last fatal step into open air.

The toes of his wingtips met the window. His breath blew a warm cloud of fog across its surface as he looked down.

There was a utilitarian cleanliness to Gotham's revitalized business district, but it was sloppy, uneven, like there hadn't been enough funding for it until recently and no one was exactly sure where to start. What buildings weren't new were freshly painted and, in some cases, completely refaced. If it weren't for the familiar pall of fear overhanging the city, Tony wouldn't have recognized the place.

He distinctly remembered Gotham being a lot more... moldy.

"I love what you've done with the place," he said, gesturing toward the skyline; empty flattery was always safe, especially when it wasn't totally empty. He turned, slanting Wayne a look. "Wayne Enterprises stepping up on the local charities?"

Wayne made a soft, satisfied sound and moved to stand beside Tony. "We do what we can," he said. "I wish we could do more."

"Hey, no, don't-- don't do that." Tony didn't like Wayne, but he liked listening to him put down an honest accomplishment even less. "This is somethin' else," he said, nodding toward the cityscape. "I mean, before, doin' business in Gotham... Well, _slumming _comes to mind -- and _I_ know slumming; funny story, really, remind me to tell ya about it sometime?" Tony placed his palm against the window, trapping the Starbucks Mermaid two streets over between his thumb and forefinger. "But look at her, now." He tapped the glass. "_Shiny_."

"Shiny?" Wayne echoed, lifting any eyebrow. He handed Tony a half-filled glass of brandy.

"Yeah. You can actually see the sun." And, of course, the sun promptly vanished from view. "A little." It began to rain. "Sometimes."

Obviously, Gotham was a cranky bitch who couldn't take a compliment.

"Okay, screw the shiny," he said. "But losing the trashcan fires an' dead crack whores was a definite step up." He toasted Wayne, "Kudos, kid," threw the brandy back like a shot, and passed the empty glass back to his now unsmiling host.

Whether it was because of his comment or his behavior, Tony couldn't say. Either way, he counted it as a win.

Smirking, Tony crossed back over to the chair Wayne had offered him and flopped into it, lazy. Wayne was slower to take his spot on the other side of the desk. When he finally did, his smile was back in full force, dazzling and as empty of meaning as a light bulb.

"What can I help you with today, Tony?" he asked, friendly and mild, like a well-behaved dog. "I know you didn't come all the way here for the view."

"I _have_ done that, actually," Tony corrected, pointing at Wayne. "Not Gotham, and not, you know, _recently_, but it's been done, so." He shrugged and stretched out in his seat, crossing his ankles.

Wayne's smile dimmed to something a little more genuine and a _lot_ more amused. "_Did_ you come all the way here for the view?"

Tony tipped his head, silently asking:_ what_ _are you, an idiot?_ "No. Business. I mean, this is the first suit I've worn that _can't _fly in..." Tony thought about it, eyes widening as he came to a figure that could be rounded _down_ to several months. No wonder Pepper had looked so relieved when he'd said they were taking the jet to Gotham. Getting back on track, Tony waved a hand, dismissive. "Never mind. I'm here to propose a joint project."

And, wow, you could _feel _the room get colder.

"I don't know what you've heard, Mr Stark, but Wayne Enterprises doesn't participate in weapons manufacture any longer, not even jointly."

"Okay, first off?" Tony snapped, sitting upright. "You can drop the prissy _Mr Stark_ bullshit. Secondly? Where the _hell _have you been the last six months? Under a rock?" He yanked his tie loose. "I'm not in the weapons business anymore. Took a forty point drop an' everything."

_Fifty-six_, corrected a niggley voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Pepper. Tony ignored it.

A wonderfully shell-shocked Bruce Wayne was way, _way_ more interesting.

"I hadn't heard," Wayne said, shock giving way to a bemused sort of confusion. "Why the change of heart?"

"You--" Tony paused. The man might have been _painfully_ dense at times, but Wayne's surprise was genuine. "You honestly had no idea?"

"None at all," Wayne said.

"Oh. Huh. So, I guess you don't know about Iron Man, either, then?"

"Iron Man?"

"Yeah, I'm... well, I'm a superhero now."

"_You_?"

Tony frowned. He didn't have to sound so incredulous about it. "You know, I'd say your complete an' utter disbelief is insulting, but I'm gonna cut you some slack since you're obviously an _insane_ recluse." Tony got up to get another drink. "It was on every major news channel, Bruce."

"You're a superhero and the entire world _knows_?" Wayne asked, eyes wide. He shook his head. "Of course the entire world knows. It's _you_."

After a moment's consideration, Tony poured two glasses. Wayne looked like he could use one, too.

"Ya might wanna try for a little less _asshole_ there, babe," he said, stoppering the bottle of brandy. "That's my job." He walked back over with the decidedly more-than-half-full glasses. He slid the second across the desk to Wayne. "Yeah, there was this whole cover-story about a bodyguard and a, uh, yacht..." He shrugged, sitting back down. "Looked good on the cards, not so much comin' outta my mouth."

Wayne snorted, picking up his drink and draining it midway. "Now _that_ I believe."

"Friendly warning," Tony said, "never try to bullshit _Vanity Fair_. 'Cause let me tell you, _not_ just another pretty face."

"Duly noted," Wayne said dryly. He set his glass down. "What _are_ you doing here, Tony?"

"Joint project, like I said." Tony sunk back into his chair, shifting, making the plush leather squeak. "You know, these are_ really_ comfortable chairs," he said. "Think I should get a few for my office?"

"Tony."

"No, I'm serious," Tony said. "Pepper needs to talk to whoever knows where you got these. 'Cause, really, these-- these are _very_ nice."

Wayne cocked his head, giving the chair a long look, as though it was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. "I honestly don't know where we got them," he said, glancing up. "Mary might, though. She's our receptionist." He smiled slightly, a little rueful. "If she doesn't know, I'll ask Mr Fox."

"Lucius is still here?" Tony asked, bolting up. He grinned wide and clapped his hands. "Great! That'll make this _so_ much easier."

"Make what easier, Tony?" Wayne asked, exasperated. "You _still_ haven't told me what this project of yours _is_."

"Ah-ah," Tony said, wagging a finger. "_Our_ project. _Ours_."

"I haven't agreed to anything yet."

"_But you will_," he singsonged. A beat. "Have you heard of the Hulk at least? Big, green, nasty temper?"

A frown danced around Wayne's lips. After all the puppy-dog smiles, it looked... weird. "Yes. I was in New York at the time. The property damage was--"

"Phenomenal?" Tony interrupted. "Terrific?" He raised his eyebrows. "Let's just go with _incredible_, shall we?" He upended his drink, finishing it. "Now, the big guy's not bad, really, just... strong." He pointed at Wayne. "_Amazingly _long memory. Do _not _get on his bad side. You'll never get off."

"It sounds like you know him," Wayne said, quiet.

"That's 'cause I do," Tony explained. He patted his chest. "Charter member of the world's first government appointed superhero team."

Wayne rolled his eyes. "Of course. You and the monster that demolished a good chunk of New York."

Tony slid his empty glass across to _chink_ into Wayne's. "Can the holier-than-thou, Wayne," he snapped. He fixed the man with a hard, unhappy look. "Hulk can't help how he is; control wasn't part of his superpower package. Anyway, his non-hulking self is a damn good guy." He sat back. "A little whiny, but if I turned into a giant, green ball of rage every time I got a little annoyed, I'd probably whine, too."

"That's oddly sensitive coming from you," Wayne said, and how he said it, like it was a surprise, made Tony uncomfortable.

He shrugged. "Seen a lot this year, done a lot."

"Like becoming a superhero?" Wayne asked, sarcastic.

Tony snorted. "Well, _that_, or bein' held hostage for three months in cave in Afghanistan. You know, _whichever_."

Wayne had the grace too look ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

Tony sighed; he was _not_ drunk enough for this. "Yeah, I'm gettin' that." Yanking his tie free from his neck, he undid the top button of his dress shirt and wadded the strip of navy blue into a wrinkled ball, stuffing it into his pocket. Pepper was going to be annoyed, but the more comfortable he was _now_, the less likely he'd say -- or _do_ -- something completely out of line _later_. Fruit baskets and flowers only smoothed things over so much.

"Okay. The Hulk." Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Unchecked, he's a menace. He doesn't mean to be, but there it is. Now, the flight-stabilizers on my suit double as repulsors--"

"Wait," Wayne said, holding up his hand. "Flight-stabilizers? Suit?"

Tony made a not so small sound of annoyance. "Okay, seriously, how can you _not_ know? _Everybody_ knows. It was in the news for _weeks_, Bruce!"

Wayne just shrugged. "I've been busy."

Tony wondered if he could swing a self-defense plea if he beat Wayne to death. _He was killing me with stupid, officer_. _I had to do __something_.

"Okay." Tony took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll tell you what." He checked his watch. "I'll meet you outside Duet's in an hour."

"Duet's?" Wayne asked.

"Little place on the waterfront? Makes the best jambalaya outside of Louisiana?" Tony quirked an eyebrow. "You _do_ live here, don't you?"

"I know where Duet's is, Tony; I meant, _why_?"

Tony smiled, standing. "I'm gonna go get the suit. I'll give you a demo an' then we'll eat."

Wayne's eyes widened ever so slightly; they flicked to the door. "Tony, I'm sorry, I can't. I have plans for this afternoon."

Okay, that was possibly the worst brush off he'd ever heard _in his life_. Tony leaned a hip against Wayne's desk. "Unless it's a fundraiser, a charity ball, or the end of the world, Bruce, they don't rate. I _fly._ I can bench-press a _tank_. I have it on good authority that it's very, very cool." He straightened his collar. "Honestly, I thought you already knew about it, otherwise I would have had Pepper bring charts and a laser pointer."

"And wouldn't _that_ have been fun?" Wayne muttered, standing.

"It would have been _extremely_ fun," Tony agreed, pushing off the desk and heading toward the door. "So. Right. Duet's in an hour." He snapped his fingers. "Don't stand me up, Wayne."

Wayne was silent for a moment, then Tony heard him huff a laugh. "A tank?" he called after him.

"A tank!" Tony called back.

TBC


End file.
